


the larks, still bravely singing, fly

by FullmetalChords



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F!Byleth, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Mute Byleth, Pre-Slash, dorothea's taking this war thing really hard, spoilers for Golden Deer route
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-08-10 01:21:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20127022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FullmetalChords/pseuds/FullmetalChords
Summary: “All right,” she said softly. “Who… who else was there?”Byleth paused before signing again.Lots of familiar faces. It was almost like the Battle of the Eagle and Lion all those years ago…“Professor,” Dorothea said sharply, and Byleth’s hands stilled. “Who else did we kill?”-------After the battle at Gronder Field, Dorothea struggles to process the war.(SPOILERS for Ch. 17 on Golden Deer route!)





	the larks, still bravely singing, fly

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "In Flanders Fields" by John McCrae, natch. Cliche, but I think the poem really sums up what Dorothea is feeling here. 
> 
> (also, I've only played to chapter 17 in Golden Deer and haven't touched any other routes, so I'm sorry if some information/characterization is off!)

“Professor!”

Skirts gathered in her hands, Dorothea sprinted into the med tent, looking wildly for that pale green head she knew so well. When Claude’s army had marched for Gronder Field, she’d been one of the few to stay behind at the monastery to guard it — joined, she couldn’t fail to notice, by Petra and Sylvain, who surely had to be feeling just as many mixed emotions as she over this war with their old housemates.

But Claude’s army, and her new friends, had all returned; albeit somewhat worse for the wear. But Dorothea had only had to hear that Byleth had been gravely injured before she’d taken off, all other concerns flying from her mind.

Her eyes darted around the med tent: there was Linhardt, complaining loudly to Flayn about the hole Felix had put in his torso while she patched him up; Leonie and Lysithea lying on mats side-by-side as Marianne poured white magic into them, and — there — in the corner —

“Professor,” Dorothea breathed, dropping to her knees by Byleth’s bedside. There were bandages wound about her abdomen somewhat haphazardly, her face terribly pale, but Dorothea reached for her old professor’s hand first, unable to help herself. “I heard you were hurt — I came to help. It must have been a terrible battle…”

“Thea,” Byleth said softly, then winced in pain as she moved, trying to reach for her.

“Hold still,” Dorothea said, and hovered her hands over the wound, murmuring a healing spell. She wasn’t as efficient at this as their bishop and holy knight were, but it wasn’t like Byleth had room to be picky. Goddess, that was a deep wound. Had it been a lance?

Byleth relaxed back onto her mat, but those large, green eyes still focused on Dorothea’s face, her expression sorrowful.

“Thea,” she murmured again, “I’m…”

“You must have been very brave,” Dorothea said, cutting off whatever terrible news Byleth was clearly bracing herself to deliver. “Taking a wound like this… Was it another Empire paladin? Did you give him what was coming to him?”

Like you did Ferdie, she thought, traitorously, but didn’t dare say. Ferdinand’s death at the Bridge of Myrddin had been weighing heavily on her all month. It was absolutely absurd, in a way; it wasn’t as though she’d particularly liked him much, even when they’d been in Black Eagles together.

But still, to have him die right in front of her the way he had… Dorothea had never wanted that.

“You should have let me come to Gronder Field,” she continued, trying to fill the air with mindless chatter as she peeled back the stained bandages, checking the professor’s wound to see if she needed to cast Heal once more. “I still don’t understand why you didn’t. It sounds to me like you could have used another mage, and — no offense to Linhardt — but it doesn’t look like he did so well out there.”

“None taken,” Linhardt droned from across the tent before yawning loudly, conspicuously, as if to emphasize how little he cared for her opinion. Dorothea rolled her eyes.

“Anyway,” Dorothea continued, still trying to act her old bubbly self. “Did you find out who that mysterious Kingdom army was?”

Byleth was just looking at her, eyes bright. Dorothea could see her professor’s throat working, as it so often did when Byleth struggled to find words. There were times, both in the classroom and on the battlefield, that Byleth’s ability to speak simply… stopped working, due to stress or anxiety. Dorothea’s eyes drifted to Byleth’s hands, expecting her professor to start signing whatever it was she wanted to communicate, before she heard Byleth speak.

“…Dimitri.”

Dorothea felt the bottom drop out of her stomach.

“D-Dimitri?”

Byleth nodded, her words seeming spent. Dorothea looked down at her lap, filled with a mixture of shock and joy — Dimitri had been so serious in school, but always kind to her. And with the Kingdom of Faerghus in the state it was… Perhaps he would come fight the Empire with them and bring this terrible war to an end? “He’s… he’s alive?”

Byleth’s expression fell, her eyes shining, before she shook her head.

_No_.

The small bubble of hope Dorothea had allowed herself to feel burst.

“Oh.”

She shut her eyes — another old classmate to grieve for. There was a light touch on the back of her hand, and she looked up to see Byleth frantically signing.

_He fought me, but I didn’t kill him. None of us did. It was Edelgard — he chased her down in the woods, and her men killed him. Hilda saw everything._

“Goddess,” Dorothea breathed. She shook her head, still trying to process this new sorrow. “He… he deserved better than that. To be struck down like a dog in the middle of the forest…”

She took a deep breath, wanting to steady herself before more bad news broke.

“All right,” she said softly. “Who… who else was there?”

Byleth paused before signing again.

_Lots of familiar faces. It was almost like the Battle of the Eagle and Lion all those years ago…_

“Professor,” Dorothea said sharply, and Byleth’s hands stilled. “Who else did we kill?”

Byleth’s mouth opened, a small huff of breath escaping. Dorothea kept her eyes locked on her professor’s, needing answers even if she dreaded knowing them.

“Bernadetta,” Byleth said at last, and Dorothea couldn’t keep back a pained groan of her own. “And… Ingrid.”

“No…”

Dorothea couldn’t quite hold back the tears this time, although she turned her face away so Byleth wouldn’t have to see her cry again.

Ingrid… it felt like only yesterday that they’d gone to investigate that dreadful suitor of hers, thinking the biggest worry any of them would ever have to face was an unhappy marriage. Dorothea could still remember when Ingrid had given her that old engagement ring, how she’d teased her dear friend about a proposal…

And now she was gone, killed on the same battlefield where they’d once played war as children. And dear Bernie, too, who’d lived in the room right next to Dorothea’s, who was so reluctant to leave the safety of her room and spend time with others. She remembered meals chatting with Ingrid, remembered practicing white magic on Bernadetta’s wounds during mock battles.

Ingrid’s bright eyes, Bernie’s shy smile… She’d never see either of them again, both their lives snuffed out along with Dimitri’s and Ferdinand’s in the name of this cruel war.

“Professor,” Dorothea said, her voice still trembling, “why… why is this happening? When will the fighting be over?” Her eyes caught Byleth’s, desperate for answers. “Friends fighting each other, killing each other…” She shudders, thinking once more of Ferdinand’s blood coating her hands, his last desperate words to soldiers that had already died — _"Protect the bridge. For the Emperor."_

“I can’t bear it, Professor. I can’t. I… I’m not a soldier like you. I’ve seen you — you thrive in the heat of battle, letting your sword talk for you. I’m… I’m not like that. I don’t think I’ll ever be.”

She saw Byleth’s throat bob, felt a warm hand cover her own. Dorothea breathed deep once more, as though she was about to take the stage the way she had in her past life, with the Mittelfrank Opera.

“You don’t have to fight,” Byleth croaked in that husky voice of hers. “You…” Her lips worked for a moment, apparently struggling to find the right words.

“It’s all right, Professor,” Dorothea soothed, setting aside her own problems so she could continue tending to her wounded teacher. “You don’t have to say anything. You should get some rest.”

Byleth shook her head fiercely, once, before starting to sign again.

_You don’t have to fight in any more battles. You can stay here, just as you did this time._

A sudden stab of fury went through Dorothea’s heart.

“No!”

Nearby, Leonie flinched on her cot, apparently startled by Dorothea’s outburst. But she didn’t slow down.

“Don’t you dare leave me behind,” she told Byleth, looming over her professor. “That is not the solution I want. Do you understand me?”

Byleth looked stricken. “I—” She signed again, frantic: _You don’t have to fight your old friends. It isn’t fair to you. I saw how hard it was for you when Ferdinand—_

“I _hated_ Ferdie back in school,” Dorothea said fervently. “Hated him… for something that barely matters, anymore. Too much has happened since then…” She shook herself, wanting to stay on track. “But… I was there for him, when he died. I helped ease his pain, I got to hold him. That’s the only thing that’s made this past month bearable, Professor, and you’d rather I sit at home as you slice through the rest of my friends?”

“Dorothea,” Linhardt murmured, his voice wavering; but she waved him off. She already knew that Linhardt wasn’t nearly as emotional over these matters as she was, and wasn’t about to be treated to another lecture about how she needed to stop being so sensitive.

“What if _you_ die?” she demanded of Byleth, who had gone very still, her wide eyes fixed on Dorothea’s face. “What if something happens to you, and I’m not there to protect you?” Her tears spilled over once more, and she wiped them away in irritation. “Goddess, Professor, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. You’d have me stay behind, let you or Claude or Lin or Marianne get hurt, all so I wouldn’t be _sad_?”

Byleth swallowed, hard, before shaking her head no. Satisfied, Dorothea continued.

“I joined your class for a reason.” Her voice softened. “I’ve already made my choices— hell, I could have stayed in Enbarr if I didn’t want to be by your side.” She covered Byleth’s hand with her own. “But here I am.”

Byleth made a soft hum in the back of her throat, those eyes filling with understanding.

“Dorothea,” she said softly, lacing her fingers through Dorothea’s own.

“Let me stay with you,” Dorothea pled, clinging to Byleth’s hand. “I… I need to see this through. No matter how much it hurts.”

A gentle smile spread across Byleth’s face, her expression full of pure love and affection, before she nodded, once. Dorothea gave her own smile back, blinking away the last of her tears.

She would grieve her fallen friends later. For now, she had to keep fighting, in the hopes that her efforts could help bring an end to this terrible war.

**Author's Note:**

> yes, I know Dorothea is from Black Eagles, but I kidnapped her (and Linhardt, and Petra and Sylvain) before the war started, so now they're on Claude's team and get to participate in murdering their old classmates :'(
> 
> Anyway, Dorothea's battle lines are really bumming me out because it's clear she's sick of fighting, and she canonically took the fact that we had to kill Ferdinand on the Bridge of Myrddin REALLY hard, so I wrote this as catharsis. I, the player, have ALSO taken this really hard despite not even having played any other routes yet-- and yes, Bernie and Ingrid also died when I played this map and it was SO sad. Then again, Felix killed like three of my guys, so, I guess we're even. (I'm on casual, it's fine.)
> 
> Comments are always loved and appreciated! Come talk to me on Twitter @apostaroni!


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